30 Day OTP Challenge
by TwisterBlade77
Summary: 30 prompts gathered up from Ericandy's post on Tumblr. My OTP is Shwatsonlock ((Well, Johnlock)) so it's going to obviously have some "gay" themes in it. Rated M because a few prompts may be NSFW. OH. And It's not normal Johnlock either. I've set them in a Teen!lock AU. So I hope you enjoy that sort of thing ;0 -IN PROGRESS 5/30
1. Take my hand!

**/Ok here's my first ((good)) attempt at the 30 day challenge by Ericandy. Since my OTP has been done before. Like, 10000 times. I'm just going to do a Teen AU. So now, without further ado, my 30 Day OTP Teen!lock AU starring: Sherlock and John~/**

_Day One ~ Holding Hands_

John arrived at Baker Street High School wet and pissed off. When he had gotten on his bus he had been tripped by some stupid guy and kicked by some girl. The guy was one of those upper classmen that hated Freshmen apparently. And the girl? Probably one of his exes. He had dated quite a couple girls since he had gotten here, and all of them had left. He thought about it as he made his way across the slippery tile floor and into the gym.

Most girls left him so quickly he forgot that it even happened. It wasn't that he was a man-whore or anything, it's just, girls liked him and he liked them back, but once they found out who his best friend was, well, you can kind of picture how that turned out.

He was knocked out of his thoughts by the feeling of falling and he clutched onto the railing of the stairs. He was almost certain the juniors and seniors on the other side saw him because he heard a small chorus of laughter erupt from several little groups in the bleachers. God, he needed to be more careful. He ascended the stairs, holding onto the railing tightly so he wouldn't slip and fall, and finally made it to the top.

He was met with a loud chorus of the rest of his Freshmen class talking and laughing and texting. He ignored them and instead looked around the bleachers until he saw who he was looking for. Sherlock was sitting up on the highest bleacher alone and more than likely bored. He was wearing the black coat he always wore along with some very expensive looking slacks and a shirt. Oh, and his trademark scarf of course.

He made his way up the bleacher stairs ,skirting past the random outbursts of kids running across, up, down, and just all over the stairs. After he got past the sea of Freshmen he made it to the very top bleacher. No one seemed to be up on this end and John vaguely wondered if it was against the rules to be up here.

"Hey Sherlock!" he said cheerily as he say down beside him.

"You're wet." he scrunched up his nose at John.

"Well yeah. It's raining outside." John replied ignoring Sherlocks lack of greeting him as a normal person would. Sherlock didn't do greetings or "normal" so it didn't really shock him that much anymore.

Sherlock scoffed "I knoooow John. But that doesn't mean you have to go prance around in it. Don't you have an umbrella." he stated more than questioned.

"Yes Sherlock I have an umbrella. It's at my flat though. I'm not allowed to take it on the bus." he replied setting down his backpack. Sherlock took a glance at me and then looked away.

"What?" John asked irritatedly.

"You're shirt is inside out. Oh, and your jacket is ripped in the pocket. The left one." he replied like it was commonplace. John always felt a little twinge of envy that Sherlock could afford such expensive clothing and all he had was a couple shirts and pants and his old, torn bomber jacket.

He must have sensed Johns dismay because he sort of did that little look where he was sorry but didn't know how to say it.

"Don't worry. At least you weren't wearing that hideous jumper." Sherlock tried to assure me? Yeah, Sherlock still needed to work on saying he's sorry. And manners and greetings as well if we're on that subject.

"Yeah. Could always be worse hmm?" John chuckled a little despite his scathing remark about his jumper. He visibly relaxed at Johns body language.

See, that's another thing about Sherlock. He doesn't do well with emotions like these. So you kinda have to help him out, well, as much as you can. Of course, that's only a guide for John. He's the only one around Sherlock long enough for him to have to know all these things.

Sherlock doesn't really have any other friends here. Oh sure, Molly the stalker. Jim, his so called "arch enemy" and Jims "boyfriend" Sebastian; but don't call him that in front of either of them unless you want to end up on the side of a ditch. That was most of everyone John knew Sherlock to communicate with.

He had been to his house a couple times before so he knew Sherlock didn't talk much to his mum and da. Not like they would talk back. They were very uppity to say the least. ((John had only met them once and they disregarded him instead to call out they would be home later and they left for some sort of party or another. Not really the dedicated parent type.)) Oh, and he had a brother. Mycroft. But he didn't really know much about him besides the fact that Sherlock could barely stand to even talk to him much less about him.

"Oh yes! You could've been attacked with acid, or had arsenic injected into your veins Oooooh that's a good experiment idea!" Sherlock started exclaiming happily. John just let him talk, Sherlock was happy and not being a depressed, whiny ingrate or some egotistical dick which didn't happen very often, so John was happy too.

Then the bell rang and they were getting up and getting ready to go to class. Most of the kids filed out fast still chattering to their buddies. Sherlock and John just kind of walked down slowly, John still letting Sherlock get his thoughts out.

Best to do this before class also because sometimes the teachers got mad when Sherlock tried to counter their theories on how the criminal justice system worked, or whatever else he wanted to show off about.

John was half-listening half-ignoring his best friend and just trying to guide himself to the stairs. His shoes squeaked again as he moved down the first couple of steps.

Suddenly, his foot slipped and he felt himself plummeting forward. Sherlock reacted as quickly as if he had known all along what was about to happen. In a flash he grabbed Johns hand and held onto the rail with the other. John stopped falling and pulled Sherlocks hand towards him as he tried to regain his balance. As soon as he could stand he pushed himself up and stared at Sherlock who still hadn't let go and was staring at him with something akin to worry.

The last couple of kids that were pushing themselves by looked at them, some of them even laughing mockingly. Neither of them really noticed, nor did they particularly care.

They stayed like that for a few uncomfortable minutes until John cleared his throat, "*ahem* Sherlock, you can let go now." he said pulling his hand away.

Sherlock let go and backed up as if he had been scalded by hot water. He noticed this, but he didn't particularly want to bring it up, so he just went along as if nothing else had happened,

"Thanks Sherlock." he said genuinely thankful that he had managed to keep him from falling.  
That didn't stop him from giving John a scared look however.

It seemed his actions even startled himself. But he instantly recovered becoming depressed whiny ungrateful Sherlock and egotistical dick Sherlock at the same time.

"Well it wasn't that big of a deal John. With your worn out shoes and obvious lack of attention for what's going on around you it was bound to happen." he crossed his arms at John trying to look like he was so smart.

John rolled his eyes. Of course he would do this. He always does this. So he huffed, turned around, and started descending the stairs again.

"Wait John!" he yells but John doesn't hear him. He'a falling for about the one millionth time and thinking that maybe he should file a complaint with the school for their slippery arse floor instalments, or maybe buy new shoes. When, of course, Sherlock reaches out again and grabs ahold of the back of his jacket and pulls him back.

By now the last of the kids are already down the stairs and John turns around and try to thank him again without sounding stupid.

Of course all he replies with is a "Honestly John. Have you ever walked down stairs in your life?" and comes up beside him as they walk down the stairs together. John manages his way down but it's still pretty slippery.

They walk ((well, John sort of slides)) down the hallway towards their class rooms in companionable silence.

John's sure Sherlock doesn't want to talk about the hand thing so he don't bring it up.

Instead it's, "Hey Sherlock I'm-" And he's cut off as he tries to tell Sherlock he's sorry with him just turning to the side and ascending the stairs in a flurry of his coat.

John thinks he might be mad at him, it's quite possible. But this is Sherlock he's talking about. Sherlock doesn't need a reason to be mad at someone. If you're being an idiot he will ignore you, or snap at you, John would prefer the first if any.

So he walks to the other side of the stairs and grasps ahold of the railing internally cursing everything.

John doesn't see Sherlock the rest of the day. He's not sure what's wrong but he's starting to feel kind of bad. He doesn't really want Sherlock to hate him, but the other part of him says he doesn't need that dick today. They need some time apart anyways or he's sure they would go insane. But it still hurts.

It's approaching the end of the day and John checks his phone one more time for any messages.

Unlock - Messages - Sherlock - "NO NEW MESSAGES"

He sighs and tucks his phone back into his pocket as he tries to focus back on his Language class. Only 5 more minutes. He's not sure whether he should be glad schools almost out or mad because Sherlock has avoided him the whole day.

3 minutes and he's ready to almost die of boredom. *ping* he hears a little sound from his pocket and tries to not make a big deal about it while still making a pretty big deal about it.

The teacher looks at him angrily, but he really could care less as he sees the new message is from Sherlock.

Sorry for not talking. Was thinking. Meet me at my house at 4? -SH

John rolled his eyes.

Yeah. Try not to be such an arse? -JW

A little hesitation.

Yeah ok. Sorry. -SH

And that made John smile for probably the first time since he had came to school that morning.

You're forgiven Sherly. -JW

Don't. Start. -SH

Ok ok. See you at 4. -JW

I shall wait for you. -SH

Well I would hope so. -JW

And his phone was plucked from his hands by an angry, frizzy haired teacher who was glaring at him like he had just been found guilty of a murder.

"So. What was so important that you felt you had to share it at this very second, hmm?" she asked scrolling through his texts.

"Hey Mrs.-" he was cut off when he reached for the phone.

"'Meet you at 4.' oh so you talking to you're girlfriend? 'Sherly'?" She smirked like she actually knew what she was talking about.

Johns face got red and he reached for the phone again "No that's not!-" she walked back to her desk and tossed it onto a stack of papers.

"If you want it back you can come with your parents and pick it up from the office. I'll be happy to tell them you won't be getting any special treatment and be allowed to use your phone during class even if you are a football player! And that this 'Sherly' will just have to wait until after school to text you." she replied matter-of-factly as his blush hit his ears and neck and the kids around the room erupted into laughter.

Then, the bell rang and the teacher was screaming not to forget homework as everyone packed up their things.

John slung his bookbag around his shoulder and he stomped out into the hallway and out the door to his bus.

He didn't see Sherlock anywhere so he guessed he was already on a bus. He shivered at the cold wind and tried to walk faster.

He made it on his bus without further accident, well, besides having to run after it and being tripped as soon as he got on.

He was almost literally thrown off his bus and into the freakishly cold wind. He didn't even look back at the animals on his bus and tried to ignore the pain in his stomach.

He had gotten home, told his dad he needed to go pick up his phone with him in a few days and that he was going to Sherlocks, threw his backpack down in his room, grabbed his overnight bag, said goodbye, and left.

His dad wasn't much for conversation. Sometimes he wished his mum was still alive.  
He sighed as he got on a more civil city trolley. Sometimes going to Sherlocks made him feel better. At least John had one parent that even semi-cared. Sherlock had him and Mycroft.

Then he got to thinking about Sherlock and the hand holding thing. Sure it was awkward, but Sherlock usually shrugged off awkward as being normal. Why was this any different? Unless...no. Sherlock couldn't have felt anything from that. That was stupid. And John was straight!

By the time he arrived at Sherlocks "house" mansion he had convinced himself Sherlock was just overreacting because John was being an idiot. Which made no sense. But it felt better than thinking his best friend was gay and loved him and holding his hand.

He made it past the security guards and into the mansion where he was greeted with an overtly ecstatic Mummy Holmes.

"Oh John! I've heard so much about you! It's so nice to meet you.." it went on for about a minute before he could answer.

"Um, hello. Not to be rude but I'm sure we met a few months ago...and the following weeks after that." he replied cringing a little at her change in demeanour.

"Oh yes. Perhaps we have." she said dead panned.

John felt so out of place he wished that the beautiful jewelled carpet would just swallow him up where he stood.

Luckily the carpet did not come to life and eat him whole, but the next best thing did come running down the stairs he supposed.

"John glad of you to come again. Mum we'll be upstairs." Sherlock said trying to pull over the nice voice as he grabbed ahold of Johns ((it's always by the hands is it now?)) hand and pulled him behind him in a hasty retreat.

Mummy Holmes just looked after them and called out sweetly "Just don't get up to anything you two!"

John looked back at her horrified as she added on "But don't worry, the bedsheets are washable." and winked.

Then they were in Sherlocks room and the door was shut. Sherlock flopped down on his bed and groaned loudly "Mothers. God."

John chuckled nervously as he nodded along.

Sherlock moved his arm from across his face and looked up at him.

"Make yourself comfortable. I mean, don't just stand there." Sherlock said rolling himself over and sitting up.

John shrugged and jumped onto the bed beside him.

They talked for a while about school and stuff each trying not to bring up the topic they were both thinking of.

Finally Sherlock just blurted out, "I'm sorry!" And when I say blurted out I mean he screamed it to the top of his fucking lungs.

John jumped straight up from the bed in fright.

"I didn't mean to grab your hand John! I know you're straight and I respect that it's just you were falling and you needed help and I just deduced you hated me so I just sort of tried to stop but you fell again!" Sherlock was rambling on fear in his voice.

"Shh shhhh Sherlock. Calm down." John tried to stop his screaming. If someone came up at that moment they might get in trouble.

"No John! I'm sorry! Ok? I don't say that a lot I know. Because people are stupid and don't deserve it. But I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable and hate me." his voice was barely a whisper now.

"Sherlock." I said a bit more harshly than I intended to, "Listen I'm not mad. And I don't hate you. Sometimes instead of deducing me just ask me what's wrong!"

Sherlock looked at me and I actually felt the hurt in his gaze.

"John. What if I really did?" he asked me his whole body shivering.

I felt a pit in my stomach, "Really did what?" I asked.

"Nothing." and with that he was Sherlock again, and leaning on the bed trying to act cool.

John rolled his eyes for the third time that day and with a smirk Sherlock kicked him gently off the bed onto the carpet making his actual first fall of the day.

"Bastard!" John mumbled into the carpet.

"Good Night John." he yawned flicking the light off and leaving John to deal with his bedding arrangements himself.

**/Yeah I just made them both 15 year old sophomores in High-school ((referenced by my high school)). Sorry if it was a little long. My others probably won't be like this one. I just felt like detailing what's actually going on. So, I don't know anything about schools in Britain so I'm sorry about that. If there are any tips you readers feel like sharing, any compliments you want to toss my way, anything you aren't really understanding about my fanfic, etc. clicking the little review box would just make my day ;/u/; /**


	2. Well that was Awkward

_Day Two ~ Cuddling Somewhere_

It was warm when John woke up from his dreamless night. Feeling the warm bed underneath of him and the fluffy duvet atop him he lost all sense of where he was. The last thing he remembered was that he was laying on a cold carpet curled up in his own blanket.

Thats when he felt someone laying beside him, still asleep it seemed. He shrugged thinking he was just at another girlfriends house. Of course, he had never been in any of their beds before, but he wasn't unwilling to try. He was a gentleman after all. He wouldn't try anything. But that wouldn't stop him from turning over and wrapping his arms around the body to his side.

She was a couple inches taller than him. And she was really skinny, he could feel it. Perhaps he needed to console her to eat breakfast this morning if he could. His arms were wrapped around her waist; he wasn't going to grab her boobs, he wasn't like that; and he pulled her closer as they cuddled.

They stayed in that position for a long couple of minutes. He felt her heartbeat thump slow but not too slow and it made him smile.

Though John didn't particularly want to wake her, the most he remembered was that today was Wednesday, and it was a school day.

So he pushed himself up towards her ear, the curly hair brushing against his own face, and whispered low and breathy, "Hey, I'd love to stay here all morning, but don't you think we should get ready for school?"

And then "she" raised her head and fixed him with her piercing blue eyes in an incredulous look. John let his eyes flutter open and almost literally wanted to just be rendered unconscious so he wouldn't have to be in this situation.

He blinked and looked back, eyes wide and if not a little uncomfortable.

Sherlock didn't move. He wasn't deducing John, he was just waiting for John to move first. See what this would result in.

So when John slowly pulled his arms off of him and sat up, Sherlock jumped up and concluded "Yes another school day come on John!" with a cheery voice and set off downstairs.

John was confused and embarrassed and just a mix of emotions. It wasn't because he was attracted to Sherlock or anything, he hadn't even thought about being attracted to him in that way. Just, being that close to your best friend in a bed and cuddling up to them would definitely be grounds for an embarrassing morning. Sherlock didn't seem to mind though, so either he WAS gay...or John doing something didn't bother him as much as it would if he had done it. Sherlock could be so bipolar some days.

So John stretched and got himself ready for school. He had just finished getting dressed when he felt arms slip around his own waist.

He held back a scream of fright, but if the lurch he gave was any hint the touch really frightened him.

He was blushing furiously and it was very awkward. But Johns voice came out angrily through his clenched teeth, "Sherlock. Off."

"But John don't you like this?" he asked snickering a bit. John realised he was messing with him.

"Sherlock!" his voice was high pitched and not threatening in the slightest. John felt Sherlock move up closer and rest his head on Johns shoulder.

"John, are you sure you don't enjoy this?" he asked his voice low and suggestive. And John snapped at him telling him to stop messing with him and then they laughed about it and continued on their way to school.

John would never admit that he had became so aroused at that little show Sherlock put on. Not only because he was straight, but because there are some things you just shouldn't put out there. Like how Sherlock found murders arousing ((Don't ask how John knew that. Being around Sherlock enough made you realise everything)) and liked sweets. Or how John had an obsession with..well. Let's leave that for another time.

**/I felt like this chapter sucked, but whatever. John might be getting a little crush on his best friend ;o wonder if Sherlock already figured it out...Guess we won't know until tomorrow! Or maybe the next day...or the next day...or the next day...?/**


	3. What do you mean by I Love You?

_Day 3 ~ Gaming/Watching A Movie_

After another uneventful day of school John walked out the single back door next to the band room of Baker Street High School and straight into the icy air. He was carrying his jacket in his hands as he had "forgotten" to put it on. He liked to pretend the cold didn't bother him as much as it actually did. His bus was around the curve of the school and was, if he remembered correctly, the sixth in the row.

He mentally cursed the idiotic individual who had thought up the circular designs for the school wings as he rounded the corner.

"John!" Sherlock shouted busting through the door on the very side of the building.

"Jesus Sherlock don't do that!" he shouted trying to regain his breath.

Sherlocks frown deepened as he said back in his tone reserved for idiots "What do you mean? I'm just helping you work up your resistance to fear for our next break-in to the Morgue. You were jumpy last time."

"Well of course I was jumpy! We broke into a morgue Sherlock!" he said incredulously, "And what do you mean our "next" break-in? We aren't going again."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "John. Please, it's not-" but this time it was Johns turn to cut him off.

"No Sherlock. That's final. I know it's not that difficult to do or whatever but it's not happening." John concluded feeling pretty proud of himself for turning down one of Sherlocks burglary schemes. Even if it was just to get another microscope slide or some guys dead finger.

"Joooooohn!" Sherlock whined loudly. He was such a two year old sometimes.

"No." John said sternly with a quick look towards the buses. The first bus already had its door closed and was starting to drive away. He had better hurry if he didn't want to miss it.

"I gotta go Sherlock. Text me later." he said hurriedly starting to walk quickly to the buses.

"Wait...John!" he cried running to catch up to him.

"What now Sherlock I said no!" he spat getting annoyed.

"No I want to go with you!" he said almost cheerily.

"Are you sure? It's ok with your parents?.." John asked hesitantly as the next bus began to turn to go down the hill.

"Yes of course. Hurry let's go." he turned up his coat collar and began a brisk walk to my bus, #063.

John shrugged, rolled his eyes at Sherlock trying to be "cool", and began to run to his bus.

Sherlock noticed and ran alongside him, well, up until the point where his long legs put him a little less than a foot ahead of John.

They arrived at Johns bus a couple seconds before it pulled away leaving them gasping for breath ((Except running never fazed Sherlock so he was pretty silent in his breaths. John on the other hand was to the point of wheezing. Of course his asthma didn't help that much.))

The bus driver fumed as she pulled the crank that opened the door and let them on.

"Oi! Haven't seen this one on here before!" the bus monitor slurred pointing at Sherlock.

"Well that's because you're- *OOMPH*!" John elbowed him and shut him up almost immediately.

The bus monitor and bus driver seemed pretty intent to see what he would say but John just pulled him forward.

The bus started up as they made it past the first couple of seats. Suddenly a thought occurred to John. Sherlock had never been on his bus, this might be bad.

He turned around quickly and said as quietly as he could, "Don't speak to any of them. Don't respond to them. Don't do anything ok?" he made sure Sherlock nodded before making his way grudgingly down the aisle.

Of course the ritual ex tripping him. He felt Sherlock give a mumbled opinion under his breath.

After he fought past the overflowing rows of kids he made it to the fire escape.

"NO STANDING IN THE EMERGENCY EXIT!" the old hags screeched almost in time with each other.

John gave a little cursed grumble under his breath and squeezed past the upper class-men towards the back of the bus. Of course there were the little whispers and glares thrown their way that was almost expected it was so repetitive.

By the time they found a seat, the bus had already turned off and was speeding down the hill and past the hospital. John was semi-sitting in his seat, and yet, not really. Sherlock was beside him squishing the three little kids into the wall so he had room.

"I hate your bus." Sherlock grumbled uncomfortably as they passed the middle school.

"I do too." John agreed. There had been silence for less than three minutes before the large group of children on the bus started clamouring at each other.

It was then less than 15 seconds before some middle schooler was asking "Ey! Who are you? Y'ain't been round on here 'ave ya?"

Sherlock just glared at him and tensed up more. He looked like he was about to burst from not correcting the kids grammar or making some snarky remark.

John pitied him but the best thing to do on this bus was to just ignore everyone.

"Oi! Meh buddy jus asked you lot a question. Whys that one on here?" one of his muscly junior buddies demanded.

"Jus look at em! Hes not smarter enough to speak!" his companion cackled and they both began to laugh.

They were almost to Johns flat, Sherlock only had a few more minutes to not go off. But, knowing Sherlock, John knew that that was just wishful dreaming.

They dropped off the first load of kids and sped to the next stop.

"Maybe they jus too queerfags to be able to speak. They jus focked each o'er up too hard and deer mouths can't function." another kid spoke up which got almost all of the kids on the back of the bus hooting in laughter.

Sherlock glared at John but he shook his head slightly. It wasn't worth it to be suspended from the bus if Sherlock got all riled up. The bus was his only way to and from school.

"That one's so skinny the other en would break em if they did it." came another voice. Sherlock was shaking with rage at not being able to speak and John silently wondered why he had held back this long just because he had asked him to. Sherlock never obeyed anyone.

And that was apparent after they reached Johns stop. The both of them stood, John walking ahead of Sherlock. "Don't say anything, don't say anything.." John found himself repeating over and over in his head.

With a sigh he heard Sherlock turn around and shout, "Fuck you!" along with a barrage of deductions in his own little self-esteem destroying way.

The only thing John heard from the back was silence, technically, the whole bus was silent.

They reached the front and Sherlock smirked at the bus monitor and driver and said bitter sweetly, "Oh, and I'm not sure bringing crack onto a bus full of child addicts is very smart. Considering you both are crack whores anyways I'm seriously considering our schools judgment. Good day to the both of you." he bowed mockingly and put his hand on Johns back leading him don the stairs and out of the bus.

He let go as soon as they made it a little ways onto the sidewalk and they heard the bus close it's door and speed off.

"Sheesh Sherlock. What did I say?!" John asked angrily as they walked down the street towards Johns flat.

"Don't speak, don't respond, don't do anything." he replied deadpanned. He certainly had his moms angry streak through him that was certain.

"And?" John asked calmly.

"I went off on them I know what I did John! But they were being more than harsh and it made me mad especially since they were so incapable of speaking complete sentences! John I had to say something. Besides they didn't seem to mind much." he explained in his fast deducing voice.

Instead of arguing with him some more he just gave him a little punch and said, "If they kick me off you have to come pick me up every morning."

Sherlock looked down at him and shrugged, "Ok."

They walked the rest of the way until they made it to Johns flat which was really a smallish three bedroom one bath flat complex with at least three on each side.

Sherlock didn't say a word, it was the first time he had ever really been to Johns house even though he somewhat knew what to expect. John appreciated him not commenting for once.

They reached the door and John pulled at the door handle. Locked. He fumbled around in his pocket for the key and went to unlock the door. Sherlock was very close behind him, almost really leaning on him, as he unlocked the flat. Sherlock didn't have boundaries so John shrugged it off.

They made it inside and John kicked off his shoes and threw his backpack on the reclining chair along with his jacket.

Sherlock looked startled and out of place. He didn't seem like the type to go over to another mates house for a day so he probably felt awkward and nervous.

John hung up his jacket and grabbed his bookbag to take up to his room motioning for Sherlock to do the same.

He snobbily took his shoes off and laid them down like he was above just kicking them off and John snickered quietly at him from the stairs. He glared at him and awkwardly ascended the stairs behind John.

Being in his own home he felt more relaxed than he had at Sherlocks despite having went at least once every week so far. Sherlock had just decided one day he was going to invite John over, so John felt like he should be civil to Sherlock since he insisted on coming over.

John was pretty boring. He didn't really do much of anything at his house so he was really debating on what to actually do.

When he reached his room he walked in and threw his bookbag on the floor. Sherlock sat his down beside it. Then Johns eyes fell on his dusty game shelf. He hadn't played any of those board games in a couple years. But it was really the only thing he could think of at the moment.

As he pulled out on of the less dusty ones and tried to blow most of the dust off Sherlock stood still for a little less than a few seconds before he was snooping around Johns room.

When John could make out the name of the game amongst the dust he waved it up in the air to catch Sherlocks attention.

"Hey Sherlock." John said excitedly holding the game between his hands and grinning at him.

"Cluedo? You want to play a detective game with me?" Sherlocks smile looked more like a cold smirk. Sherlock thought he was going to win, how cute. John had spent a year as a child winning this game. Sure, Sherlock was a detective in the making; or as he liked to call it "consulting detective"; but John had a year of experience playing it. Sherlock on the other hand seemed to think he could just beat it with his cleverness. Which he probably could but John wouldn't make it easy on him.

"Yeah let's play." John said and they sat down with the dusty Cluedo box and began playing.

A few hours later after a lot of shouting and rule changing the Cluedo box and board had been stabbed into the wall with the hunting knife John kept underneath his pillow wedged into the centre of it. The rules were ripped in two and most of the cards had been tossed carelessly around the room.

Sherlock was laying down on the floor with his coat tossed to the side complaining. John on the other hand was walking around his room making crazed gestures and screaming angrily.

"Sherlock you can't just demand the rules be changed!" John shouted at the lump on the floor.

"Oh please. The victim was the only one who could have done it! Miss Scarlett was a prostitute. She wouldn't have wanted to murder anyone in exchange for money, she was quite against the idea of murder. Colonel Mustard was a soldier, he would've killed people before but the way in which the crime was committed suggests the murderer was hung. A soldier would use a gun or even a knife. He wouldn't want to torture someone before he killed that would be against his moral- John? Did you just shush me?" Sherlock would've kept going if John hadn't of, so he felt it best to just cut in.

"Yes, I did. Now listen, let's just go watch a movie and forget the murdered Cluedo scene around my room ok?" he asked as calm as he could manage.

They stated at each other for a moment before Sherlock just announced what he was thinking in the form of "You are in love with me."

John looked at him sternly, "No I am not Sherlock. I am straight." to which Sherlock just gave a little shrug and sat up all the way.

He walked over to Johns movie shelf and picked up a colourful looking DVD case, "Here." he said handing it to John.

John looked confused, "The Lion King?" he barely suppressed a laugh, "Why this one?" he asked still snickering as he surveyed the cover and popped open the case.

"Because." he offered no further explanation as he snatched the DVD from the case John was holding and turned on the DVD player. It came on with a low hum and he stuck the disk in the slot. Then he sat back down on the floor.

John was torn between laughing and screaming so he moved past him and grabbed some blankets and pillows.

"Here ya go." he said throwing a blanket at Sherlock first and then a pillow.

"What is this for?" Sherlock asked with his muffled voice as he peeled the blanket off.

"It's for sleeping." he tried not to sound too sarcastic but he failed. The start up screen for The Lion King started up and he pressed play as he took his own blanket and pillow and took a seat beside Sherlock.

"Well of course I know what they're used for but why are you giving them to me? I don't sleep." he scoffed like it was obvious.

John looked at him incredulously, "You don't sleep?" he asked as "The Circle of Life" began playing on the tv.

"Obviously. There's too much to think about." he turned to look at John, "I thought you knew? Seriously John. I've told you this."

Well now that he mentions it he remembered him saying constantly that he didn't sleep or eat when he was thinking or working. But that means he was awake that whole time he was at his house. He was awake when John got in bed with him and he didn't just push him back out? Let him cuddle up to him that long without saying anything?

Apparently Johns shocked face was easily deciphered because Sherlock groaned and said, "Yes of course I was. You didn't seem to have a problem if I was awake or not since you were crushing me with cuddles." It was so weird to hear Sherlock say the word "cuddles" that John had to forcibly keep himself from snorting in laughter, Sherlock didn't comment. "I was trying to think so the cuddling didn't really bother me, when you whispered in my ear however, completely different." his ears were red John noticed. Sherlock was blushing. There's one for the records.

"Sherlock I-" he began but stopped himself and just turned back to the movie.

The scene where the two little lion cubs go out on an adventure is when Sherlock speaks back up, "Yes."

John looked at him and asked before he could remember, "What?"

"Nothing." he replies scrunching down in his blanket.

The wildebeest scene comes on where the little cubs dad dies and John here's Sherlock muttering under his breath.

"Sherlock what is it?" John asked a bit annoyed with the way Sherlock was acting.

"I didn't say anything." he muttered.

Then by the time the little cubs dad died Sherlock was subconsciously scooting closer to John. Then the evil lion threw off the cubs father into the wildebeests and Sherlock put his head on Johns shoulder.

"Sherlock what are you doing?" John asked kind of uncomfortable.

"Don't like this part." was all he said.

John laughed and made Sherlock jump in fright against him. But he said nothing about it.

Then Sherlock yawned and said, "John what do you like about me?" Sherlock never cared about what people thought about him, why was he asking, out of everyone, Johns opinion?

"Well, you're the only one I can really talk to. I don't know. You're just so different from everyone else. Sure, you have your bad moments but your just amazing. And you're my best friend so that should tell you you're doing something right." John concluded.

"Mmmm, ok." Sherlock said quietly and focused back to the movie.

Then, by the time the cub had grown up and met the little lioness he had been friends with and fell in love the last thing John expected Sherlock to ask came out of his mouth, "John, will you ever leave me?"

"What?! No of course not Sherlock!" John jumped up sharply. "Why would you think I would leave you?"

Instead of answering Sherlock looked at him and asked quietly, "Will you ever leave me? Ever. For any reason?"

John shook his head, "Of course not Sherlock. What is this about? Please tell me." now he was getting a bit worried.

"John I love you." he said simply as he focused back in on the movie.

John was shocked, the only thing he could hear was the ringing in his ears. But, he wasn't really as shocked as he was confused.

"Sherlock, you, what?" he asked not really as much as he didn't hear but that he wanted consoling on the matter.

"You heard me." he replied through gritted teeth. Sherlock hated emotions, yeah, but right now John didn't give a flying fuck. Because his best friend just said he loved him in not the way friends do. And it wasn't that much uncomfortable or awkward as it was just "oh. okay then."

"Sherlock just repeat what you said. Please?" he asked. When he didn't get a response he nudged him and got a little snore. Oh yeah, he also mentioned he had crashes sometimes. Tonight must be a night. Or not. He wasn't going to risk it. So he raised himself up and payed Sherlock down in a little makeshift bed on the floor while he made his own bed.

With a flick of the light-switch the room was immersed in darkness. John couldn't really sleep without the tv on so he left it on and, after strategically stepping over Sherlock, made his way to his own bed.

"Good Night Sherlock." he whispered quietly as he could manage, "and I swear to god if you don't tell me specifically what you meant by that little outburst tonight I might not be responsible for my actions tomorrow." then he rolled over and after a couple of tense seconds finally succumbed to sleep.

**/Why do these chapters always end with bedrooms Twisterblade? Well that's a good question viewers, I don't really know the answer to it but bedrooms are nice so let's just go with it. Had a little trouble with this chapter so I'm sorry for the super long wait ;n; Reviews, Favs, Follows and all of those things are lovely and will probably make me love you for the duration of my life. Until the next update~/**


	4. Murder, Chinese, and I'm not his date

_Day 4 ~ On a Date_

John was less awoken than he was startled out of bed that morning. He hadn't really slept all that good last night and he was less ready than anything to go to school. That's when Sherlock, who hadn't slept at all last night, burst through the door shouting for him to wake up.

"John! Wake up!" he literally screamed as he ran into Johns room. Johns eyes opened almost as quick as he had felt them close.

"Sherlock?...What time is it?" he asked groggily as he reached for his alarm clock.

"It's Friday, 8 o'clock." he said tapping his foot impatiently.

John groaned and sat up rubbing his eyes, "So we missed school then?"

"There's no school today so you have to get up and get ready so we can go check out the murder on fourth street and maybe go to the morgue while we're at it." Sherlock said quickly, excitement etched into his voice.

"We're what?" John asked harshly as he moved to get out of bed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Didn't you hear anything I just said? We're going to check out-"

"Yes yes I know. A murder and the morgue. That's what you woke me up for?" he rubbed the space between his eyes in agitation, "It's a free day for god sake!"

"Come one John! Sleeping is boring." Sherlock whined as he looked around for his coat.

John huffed and threw his covers off. Sherlock found and picked up his coat as John grabbed ahold of him and pushed him out the door closing it.

"Let me change ok?" he said as the door clicked shut.

Sherlock complied and went downstairs putting his clothes on as he walked down the stairs.

John sighed and began changing from his school clothes from yesterday, that he really should have taken off, into a red button up and some jeans. He grabbed his jacket, some socks, and Sherlocks forgotten scarf from the floor and opened his door.

Sherlock was pacing downstairs while ignoring a pissed off Harriet.

"Oi! John!" she shouted when he got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah what is it Harry?" he asked not really listening as he threw Sherlock his scarf.

"What was this prat doin up in yer room this mornin? Bloody scared the piss outta me when he came out this morning." she pointed a finger accusingly at Sherlock who was hurriedly tying his scarf.

"*sigh* He stayed the night." he replied putting his jacket on and zipping it up, "We're going out, tell dad I'll be home later."

"So ya wan me to tell em yer both datin or that yer gonna be home la'er?" she smirked condescendingly.

"Shut up Harry you know what I meant." he snapped, blushing vigorously.

Sherlock unlocked the door and was glaring at him impatiently. Harry flipped them off and John sent her an exasperated glance before following Sherlock out the door.

"So where exactly are we going?" John asked dubiously as he followed his tall companion.

"There was a murder I heard about on the the telly this morning, before your sister came in that is." he said as he walked briskly down the sidewalk, John trying his best to keep up.

"So we're just going to barge in to a murder scene?" Johns tone was reprimanding but he secretly thought this would be actually a lot of fun. Not the murder per-se, but the risk involved.

"Of course. Besides I know the DI's son. He lets me in to most of the crime scenes." he says as they round the corner.

"Oh." is all John says. He never knew that the Detective Inspector they so frequently sought out had a son.

"So who is he? I mean what's his name?" John asked feeling slightly curious.

"Lestrade. You see him at school all the time John." Sherlock said in his "you're-an-idiot" tone.

"Oh. Greg?" he knew Greg. They had hung out a couple times before on the rugby field but they hadn't really gotten to know each other.

"Well yes. Whatever."

Suddenly he grabbed Johns arm turned down an alley and was off running catching John by surprise.

"Sherlock!" he cried out as he was pulled down the alley. It was daytime for gods sake. What would pulling him down the brightest lit alley do?

"Shhhh it's a short cut. " Sherlock whispered harshly.

John didn't question it. So far in their friendship he had been shot at, been taken hostage ((though he didn't remember most of that ordeal)), and dozens of other things he would rather not do again.

Sherlock always said it was all because of Jim and John went with it. It was Jim who had been responsible for the first case Sherlock had drug him into, the case of Carl Powers. But back then no one had listened, which was truly unfortunate.

When they arrived out the other side of the alley they were in a park. Sirens could be heard along with the sound of people shouting. When they made it to the actual scene their was an ambulance and small crowd of people. "Nice shortcut." John thought to himself.

Sherlock let go of Johns sleeve, as he had been careful to avoid his hand, and walked over to the scene. John followed a close distance beside him.

He lifted up the cation tape, letting John go first, and walked in to the chaos.

As soon as they got in a young boy who could be no less than 17 with short brown hair walked up to them, "Sherlock, John. Fancy meeting you lot here." he grinned.

"Hi Greg." John greeted him with a handshake.

"Greg." Sherlock replied after a few minutes of hesitation. Well that was his attempt at a greeting.

"Hey John. Oi! Sherlock, I thought you didn't know my first name. You always call me Lestrade y'know." he scratched the back of his head looking as if the statement was a bit awkward for him to point out.

"Oh of course I knew your first name. I just say Lestrade as a business sort of thing." he explained walking past the few people that were in his way and towards the body.

"Hey really didn't know your name." John said quietly to Greg as they followed Sherlock. This made Greg chuckle a bit and Sherlock to turn around to see what the commotion was. He sent a mean look and bent down to observe the body.

"So are you going to be in this business when you get older?" Greg asked motioning towards Sherlock but looking at John.

"Who me? Nah. I'm thinking of going into a military career myself." he said putting his now chilled hands in his pockets.

"Oh that's interesting." Greg replied as they both looked back to Sherlock. "I'm thinking of becoming a DI like my dad actually."

"Female. Early 20's. No obvious signs of death besides a missing left thumb and some little particles of soil around her." Sherlock was mumbling to himself.

"I think I've seen enough crime scenes to last a lifetime." John said.

"Ha ha. Yeah I feel that way too sometimes. But my dads been getting me into this stuff recently. I kind of find it all fascinating."

"It's all just a lot of who did what stuff. I'm more into the action part. Sherlock likes solving the puzzles."

"Sherlock can get a bit too involved in cases sometimes can't he? It must be crazy sometimes."

"Ha ha! Yeah sometimes. He can be such an arse some days, those are when he doesn't have a crime scene to butt in to, and some he can just be plain insane. He's got these bipolar moments where you really don't know what the fuck to do."

"I hear ya! I come with my dad sometimes to check out the murders and he's usually always there. Instructing everyone, insulting them, he likes to be the smart one all the time doesn't he?"

"Yeah that's Sherlock down to a point. I haven't seen you at most of these things. I come with Sherlock often, you know, on the weekends and such."

"Yeah I like to stay home on the weekends. It's mostly after school when I come."

"Oh, well isn't that hard juggling schoolwork with this?"

"Nah. Not really. I just.."

They kept talking the whole time Sherlock was busy doing his thing. That is, until he just burst out, "The thumb! Where is the thumb?!" and skirting around the scene.

The DI, who had been too preoccupied filing out the family members, took this time to actually notice him.

"W- Hey! Who let you in?" he asked in confusion.

"I let myself in. Now the thumb is the most important evidence in this case, please tell me where it is." he responded irritably.

The tired DI didn't even try to fight back and instead got one of his personnel to dig out a plastic bag with a thumb in it which he promptly gave to Sherlock.

He examined it for a few moments before exclaiming, "Ah ha! It all makes sense." and grinning like a maniac.

John and Greg stopped talking to one another and stared up at him.

"She was killed by her neighbour of course. He has had recent visits to the mental hospital for murder attempts but was sent home quite recently. He probably wanted her to quit growing the garden in her backyard because the vines were messing up his side of the fence. When she didn't stop he cut off her thumb and spray painted it green. Then he dug up her garden and buried her in it, that's where you found her am I right? Well it was obvious he wanted to be caught and wanted everyone to know the reasoning behind it. Why? Well he probably wants to go back to the mental hospital and get some more morphine. He was given a dose last time to treat him for his last suicide attempt which the surgeons had to stitch up. He's addicted to the medicine. Just look at him!" he paused his deduction to point at the shivering man sitting in on of the ambulances. They had found him on site and were trying to pinpoint him on anything but all they were responded with were unrecognisable words and mutterings. "And with that I'll leave you to determine how the case goes." he said and handed the thumb back politely.

He turned around to call back to John that they could leave and just noticed the proximity between John and Greg. They were really close and they were laughing?

And then Sherlock became angry. He walked up to them slowly and stood waiting for John to get done.

"Hey thanks for the talk mate. Here's my phone number. Talk or text me if you can. We can meet up after school or something." was all Sherlock made out of the conversation. That only made his unnecessary rage increase.

"Come one John." Sherlock snapped grabbing ahold of Johns sleeve and pulling him away.

"Hey! Sherlock, wait a second!" John exclaimed.

"Text me later if you can John!" Greg laughed at the two of them.

"Ok will do! Bye Greg!" he said hurriedly as he tried to pull away from Sherlocks grip.

He let go to pull up the crime scene tape and strut out leaving John to duck and run underneath it.

"What was that all about?" John asked a bit Irritated.

Sherlock didn't respond and instead led him to the sidewalk and not back in to the alley.

"And where are we going?" this didn't look like anywhere he had ever been in London and it was literally just a few feet from his flat.

"You hungry?" Sherlock finally spoke up.

This was all he could probably hope to get out of him, "Yeah." he said. He would never turn down any chance of Sherlock actually eating a meal even if it was just Chinese.

"Good let's get Chinese." he said and ducked into a shop on the left.

John hesitantly followed him. He was getting kind of tired of Sherlock making all these sharp walking directions but what was he to do about it?

They were in a pretty fancy establishment and John was wondering how the hell Sherlock expected him to pay for this place. Then he remembered Sherlock was rich.

"Yeah. Table for two." Sherlock said handing the cashier the money and ordering both of their boxes.

John didn't butt in. Sherlock always ordered for him because he knew what he liked, so it was ok with him.

"Xhèlí." the cashier said and sat their boxes down on the counter.

"Xièxiè." Sherlock replied and grabbed the boxes.

"You're only just now learning Chinese Sherlock, what if you say something wrong?" John asked laughing at Sherlocks last attempt at speaking Chinese.

"I won't." he said picking out a little cubicle and sitting down.

John followed him and scooted into the chair in front of Sherlock.

"You might." he said under his breath but still loud enough so Sherlock could hear him.

"Bù, wǒ xíguàn." Sherlock said from what John could make out a little on the irritated side.

"You know I don't know Chinese, I can't tell if you just made that up or if it's a real sentence." John stuck his tongue out at him.

"I know." Sherlock said looking pretty proud of himself.

"Arse." John couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"Maybe I just won't give you your box then If I'm such an arse." Sherlock said and grabbed both of them.

"That doesn't make you any less of an arse." John said grabbing his chopsticks and the box from Sherlock.

"I would be taking your only food for the night. Then you would starve and die." Sherlock said grabbing his own chopsticks and breaking them apart in time with John.

"You're so melodramatic. God. Just shut up and eat." John grinned as he began to open and eat his noodles.

Then it was Sherlocks turn to stick his tongue out as he got halfway through his own box.

They were silent for a while as they ate their separate boxes of noodles.

"So." John started to say as he swallowed a mouthful of noodles, "We spent a whole free day of not having school solving a murder and eating Chinese?"

"Hmm seems like it, though it's hardly 6. We still have a couple hours." Sherlock replied taking another mouthful of noodles.

John stated at him for a minute before he realised what he was doing.

Sherlock looked up uncomfortably, "What?" he asked.

"You said you loved me last night. What was that about?" John blurted out.

"Oh. I was simply stating my 'emotions' at the time. That's what you always say I should do right?" Sherlock shrugged not really bothering to feel embarrassment. He didn't usually feel embarrassed when it came to the facts. Not even if they were as uncomfortable as loving your own best friend.

"Ah. So you love me then?" John more stated than asked.

"Yes I said I loved you." Sherlock confirmed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Of course I'm sure. Why would I say anything if I wasn't?" Sherlock snapped.

John just shrugged.

It was a couple of awkward moments later when Sherlock asked, "So, do you love me?" and really that was the hardest question John thinks he's ever been asked.

He hasn't even thought about even liking Sherlock in that way until he grabbed his hand a couple days ago. They had obviously had a lot of physical contact before that, but Sherlock had apparently felt something different this time. And John was pretty sure whatever Sherlock had felt he was feeling it now as well.

But being the hormonal, confused teenager he was he wasn't sure if he was just imagining it or not. But, as most hormonal, confused teenagers did not, he just pretty much said, "Yeah Sherlock. I love you too."

"...Thought you were straight." Sherlock said finishing off his noodles.

"Me too. But I guess it really doesn't matter about sexuality." John said finishing his own box.

"So. We're dating then?"

"No."

Sherlock looked confused and John mentally high-fived himself for accomplishing that feat.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said. I'm just not sure what the relationship we have now is."

"Oh."

"Doesn't mean I don't love you. I'm just kind of unsure right now."

"It's fine."

"Really?"

"Of course." Sherlock said moving to stand up.

John did the same and they walked back to the front of the store together.

Sherlock grabbed two fortune cookies on his way out and tossed one to John.

John cracked his open, "Stop being so unsure." he read it silently then crumpled it in his pocket.

Sherlock held the door open for him as they walked out into the cold London air.

"So, what does yours say?" John asked as they waited for a cab.

"Eh. It's nothing." Sherlock said and threw the crumpled cookie and paper in a trash can.

John frowned, "No, what was on it. Seriously Sherlock."

"It was noooothing." Sherlock rolled his eyes at Johns childishness.

"Please Sherlock. Tell me! I want to know." He punched him lightly in the shoulder to get his attention.

"It was idiotic." Sherlock said as a cab pulled up next to the curb.

"Tell me anyway." John said as he got in.

"You will find discover true love in a Chinese resteraunt."

"You jerk that wasn't on the fortune!"

"I know."

"You're a dick."

"Love you too."

**/Murder Dates FTW! See, I didn't end in a bedroom this time. :0 I feel kind of proud with how this one turned out actually. But I feel as though I'm rushing the romance or whatever. Eh. I just get too worked up. Whatever. ALSO, I'm sorry I updated a day late! My laptops keyboard stopped working for ages. I finally got it working again and tried not to do a half-assed ending to this. ((btw guys. CTRL + ALT is your best friend.)) So I hope you guys liked it! If theirs any critique, love and adoration, etc. the little review box is free of charge ;0 Until next update!~/**


	5. update regarding future chapters

**Ugh. Ok everyone. Sorry for the slow update process. I'm beginning to get a sort of writers block. I want to continue the way i've been doing with like the stories. But that's a lot to write in one day and i've been kind getting off schedule. I'm almost finished with Day 5 but you guys are going to have to review or pm me if you want me to just quit this for a few days until I can get back on track with it in the little story things or if you want me to just continue make them fall in love la la la la la and write little short prompts about them. If no one says anything I'm just going to go with the second option. Ugh I need to stop trying to write ginormiperfect stories with a 30 day challenge. I'm really sorry guys. My perfectionism is overtaking me right now and I feel stupid for not being prepared XD Alright well that is all. I hope all of you continue to read once I get it started up again. Until then~**


	6. Dumb kisses

_Day 5 ~ Kissing_

Saturday morning found John sleeping alone in his bed, his pillow on the floor and sheets strewn across his bed in a heap. He really hadn't remembered much of last night besides his and Sherlocks date-ish thing, and him trying to climb up the stairs in, pain was it? He sat up and lifted his shirt. Bruises. Why did he have bruises?

He stood up shakily and felt the room begin to move. He was almost certain he was going to be sick so he ran as quick as his weak legs would carry him to the end of the hallway and thee bathroom.

When he was finished he sat up, confused and still feeling hurt. It made no sense whatsoever why he was feeling this way. He hadn't done anything at all after he came home...or had he? He didn't really remember anything about last night.

John shrugged and weakly tried to stand up using the toilet bowl as a sort of hand rest. It was hard to get a stable grip and even then his legs didn't seem to be wanting to push up the rest of his body. It was tedious and energy consuming but he was finally able to stand up.

Before he could take another step however, the door flung open and hit the edge of the bathtub making a loud *BAM* sound.

John looked first down at the door, then, seeing as it hadn't been damaged, up at a very angry Harriet.

"John! Yer takin up tha whole bathroom ya are! What's the big dea-" she stopped suddenly as she finally looked down at her very sickly looking brother clutching the toilet bowl. "Aye what's wrong?" she asked, her tone a little less agitated.

"I- I don't know Harry, uh, I think I got beaten up last night." he chuckled a bit but it only made the pain in his stomach tighter and he barely suppressed a wince.

"What?! Tell me who tha cuntfucks are, I'll set em right straight!" she shouted, curling her fists into balls. "Why tha fuck di'n't ya tell me las night?!" she was still shouting.

"Because you were probably passed out on the couch! I don't know Harry I can barely remember last night, let alone what happened when I came home!" he screamed back at her. Then he felt his strength waver and he slipped backwards, managing to crack his head on the bathtub as well. Then everything went black.

When John awoke he was still laying on the cold floor of the bathroom and his whole body, mainly his head, was in shockingly acute pain. He sat up as the dull thudding in his head gave him a small migraine and he looked around. Harry was gone. The dumb fuck. She probably didn't even try to help him.

He leaned up a bit more and felt the pain ignite everywhere. What happened last night? He finally got to his feet and took a drink of water to wash the taste of vomit out of his mouth. He vaguely considered brushing his teeth and decided it might be best to, so he grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste and got to work. He managed to brush his teeth and make himself feel ten times worse than he had, but at least he had gotten that gross taste out of his mouth. Then he groaned as he walked out of the bathroom and towards his bedroom. He wasn't going to attempt to go down those damned stairs right now.

John slowly made his way back into his bed and laid there in agony for what seemed like an eternity before he heard his phone buzz beside his bed. He picked it up and shakily switched it on. Unlock - Messages - Sherlock - "Where are you? -SH"

Home, in bed, where the normal people are. -JW

I helped you last night. They broke my arm. -SH

Oh god. Are you okay? -JW

They gave me an arm brace, yeah I'm okay. Did they hurt you? -SH

A few bruises I guess. I'm still sick. -JW

I tried John. -SH

I believe you. But, what happened? -JW

We got jumped on our way home. Maybe three or four of them. They got you first and threw you down, beat you. I tried to stop them but one just grabbed my arm. They beat you until you were hardly moving. I tried to stop them again and they threw me out into the road. Luckily a police car almost hit me and they came and helped you. I was useless. All I did was break my arm and watch on as you were hurt. -SH

Oh jeez Sherlock. Don't do that to yourself, you helped as much as you could, it's okay. -JW

No it's not. -SH

Have you went to the hospital. -SH

He hadn't even thought of going to the hospital.

No. -JW

Well I took you home last night and helped you to your bed. I didn't even think that you may have internal bleeding or something. You need to go. -SH

You're a great friend Sherlock. It's okay. Thank you. -JW

Oh. -SH

What? -JW

Just a friend, understood. -SH

That's all we are right now. -JW

I said I understood. -SH

John groaned loudly. He hated all of this. Texting always made everything worse.

He shut off his iPhone and moved his hand down to his stomach. Just a light touch had him in pain and he cried out. Why was all of this happening? He didn't ask for any of this!

After laying on his bed for no less than an hour contemplating everything, he decided to fight through the pain and get up.

He moved slowly down the stairs, trying his best to will away his "bad stair luck" and managed to get down them without anymore injury. Looking around he saw no one. Harry and his dad were gone. Oh well. What would they do for him anyways.

Then he heard a knock on the door. A simple knock, less than a second, Sherlock. He massaged his brows angrily and stood wondering what to do. Another knock, this one louder than the previous. Whatever, like he had anything else to lose.

When he opened the door the sight he was greeted with was perhaps the funniest thing ever.

Sherlock was standing on the small concrete porch with his broken arm and bruised face with a bouquet of flowers and a very stressed out face, like he was constipated.

"What are you doing you dork?" he didn't even try to stop his laughter.

"I- I" he stuttered letting the flowers, and arm, drop to his side

"Just come in." he laughed waving him to come in. Sherlock shut his mouth, probably to keep himself from making a fool of himself any further, and walked in.

John threw himself down on the couch, cringing at the pain as he eventually got comfortable. Sherlock, face red and eyes narrowed, walked carefully over to him and sat down by his side. The flowers laid in between both of them on the couch.

They sat like that for a bit before Sherlock absentmindedly began to scratch at the cast on his arm. John looked over at him and hung his head.

" Listen Sherlock I'm sorry-" but he cut him off, "Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything John it's my fault." his voice had gained a high pitched whine to it, the sound someone made when they were so close to crying they couldn't stop it.

"No. Listen Sherlock," he said angrily as he grabbed Sherlock's bruised face just a bit roughly, "it's none of our faults do you understand? We didn't know they were going to jump us. We went the way we went because its the way to my house. It's those guys faults not either of ours." he finished as he stared into Sherlocks tear-filled light blue eyes.

He shook his head quickly as tears began to fall. They slid down his cheeks and off his chin as he began to shake. John wrapped his arms around him in defeat as Sherlock cried into his shoulder and mumbled "Sorry" over and over.

When he could only shake and let out sharp breaths John lifted him up to his face and kissed him. He didn't know why he did, but it felt right. Sherlock's eyes widened noticeably and he looked right into John's dark blue eyes full of so many mixed emotions they seemed to want to tear themselves out. Then he pushed forward gently into the warm lips and let his own eyes flutter shut. It was a sloppy yet vaguely sweet kiss but it seemed to make them both forget the pain they were in. And it felt wonderful. John was careful to avoid pressing him down too hard or touching his cast as they kissed and Sherlock tried to hold on to John with one hand as he just tried to keep his cast out of the way. Eventually Sherlock let himself be pushed down on the couch and kissed and nipped at until he was letting out low moans. He stopped crying and shaking and let John wash over him until he was beyond the point of drowning. Then he pulled away and said, voice full of heat, "I love you John." and John, devoid of any regret said back "Yes Sherlock and I love you too."

**/They probably crushed Sherlock's flowers too ugh you guys. Anyways hello yes I am back to writing after almost a month hiatus and I'm here to bring you your 5th chapter of my 30 day OTP thing that wasn't really in the deadline of 30 days 0; !~ Sorry it's been this long but eh here we are. A bucketload of angst and fluff and kissus ;uwu; Let's hope I can update a bit regularly from now on.../**


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